The MentalistCriminal Minds Character Studies
by Rabirhek
Summary: "Imagine the spectacle it would be if the BAU team of 'Criminal Minds' had to work with Patrick Jane and Theresa Lisbon of 'The Mentalist'." Focus on character interaction.
1. I Introductions

_A/N: A while ago, while watching an episode of _The Mentalist_, I find myself highly amused at the thought of the spectacle that would be if Patrick Jane and the BAU team of_ Criminal Minds_ had to work together. The bits written -and hopefully will be written- here are products of that amusing thought, and I'm afraid they'll be messy. This is not a linear cross-over story; because I'm utterly hopeless when it comes to writing long-chaptered stories, least of all case-fics. Honestly, I've no idea where this will go. It may be a collection of drabbles, tidbits of dialogue and prose about interactions between _The Mentalist_ and _Criminal Minds_ characters. It may, if I'm struck with inspiration, become a story of its own. It will, much probably, be left open-ended... Who knows?_

_Characterization of _The Mentalist_ people may be a bit off. Let's hope it gets better as I see more episodes. Please feel free to correct me if I got facts down wrong. Here we go.._

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**I.** **Introductions**

Detective Theresa Lisbon was no stranger to working with the feds. Often times, one or two agents would be asked to assist with ongoing investigations, and Lisbon always knew better than to turn away any help she could get. The problem, however, was having them work with Patrick Jane.

The unwilling dance that the CBI consultant so efficiently -and so naturally- forced the federals to do with him was what Lisbon did not have room or patience for. No self-respecting member of law enforcement, least of all the Bureau employees, enjoyed being so deliberately stamped upon by a mere consultant. So far, the CBI -or rather, Lisbon herself- had been able to smooth out any small grudges the feds might have had for Jane, but with the BAU coming in to take charge of a recent case, she wasn't sure whether she'd be able to keep a group of profilers from strangling him with their bare hands.

"Ah, Lisbon. I was just heading out for some lunch; would you like-"

Jane abruptly stopped when Lisbon caught his arm and pulled him a way feet alongside her.

"Hey, hey; what did I do?"

Lisbon stopped, and took a deep breath to even out the frustration she'd been feeling ever since Hightower had informed her about the BAU. After all, Jane wasn't the subject of her feelings. Yet.

"The feds are coming in to work on the case."

"Okay...?"

"The BAU is coming."

Jane frowned. "What's a BAU?"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit. They're a highly specialized, elite team of profilers."

"Profilers?" Jane bounced slightly on his toes, a slight smirk creeping in the corner of his mouth. "Is the lovely Miss Montague with them?"

Dr. Montague was a criminal profiler Jane had worked with not long ago, and it had, much to Lisbon's relief, been a smooth work relationship. This time, she had no idea what would be the case.

"I don't know, maybe," she replied to Jane's inquiry. She ran a hand along her neck and looked up at him. "They're taking charge of the investigation."

"That's unusual," Jane said, frowning again.

"This case is unusual. Three victims in two weeks; we don't even have a liable lead."

"What do you mean? We have leads-"

"Which take us to nowhere." Lisbon paused. "Jane, this is their investigation, and they may not want you to work the case with them."

Jane blinked, otherwise completely unmoved. "Oh."

"You have to understand," Lisbon insisted, emphasising every word, "they are in charge. We'll do what we do, but we'll play by their rules."

"That's fine," Jane said with an soothing smile, "I'll just introduce myself and offer my help, and we'll see how it goes."

"Fine; but if they don't want it-"

"What is this, Lisbon?" Jane asked suddenly, his lips still curled upwards, but a slight frown narrowing his eyes. "You're talking like I haven't been working here for five years."

"You work with the CBI, Jane. You never worked with the Bureau - under their rule. I just want to make sure that everyone can work together efficiently here." She paused, and rolled her eyes. "And it's not exactly my idea of fun to try to stop a fed from shooting you."

This made Jane chuckle. "Ah- maybe not yours, Lisbon, but it certainly provides me with cheap entertainment."

"Ha ha." Finally smiling a bit, Lisbon craned her neck again. "Just... go easy on them, okay? Be mild if you have to crush someone's ego."

"Promise," Jane replied, raising his hand as though swearing an oath. "Now, as I was saying, I'm headed out for lunch. Can I get you anything?"

The breath Lisbon took to ask him for chicken salad turned into a sigh as movement caught her eye. Through the glass doors down the corridor they were standing in, a group of serious-looking people were walking in.

"Guess you'll have to skip lunch. They're here." She began walking towards the newcomers, Jane at her heels.

"Fine; let's meet them. Maybe they're up for some lunch, too. Though I'm afraid they may have run out of chicken salad, Lisbon."

"Ugh," Lisbon huffed, rolling her eyes again as she continued her stride. "Remember, Jane,_ they're_ in charge," she muttered through her theeth just as they met up with the agents.

"Lisbon, I'm starting get offended."

"Detective Lisbon?"

Lisbon threw one last glance to Jane before holding out her hand to the fast-approaching FBI agent (because who could doubt that he was one, with that suit and that frown?).

"Aaron Hotchner, unit chief."

"Agent Hotchner," Lisbon greeted him with a firm shake of his hand. The lead profiler gestured towards the small group lingering behind.

"These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Dr. Reid."

Saluting each of them with a nod, Lisbon took a breath to introduce Jane, and was beat to it when he quietly, and pointedly, cleared his throat. Pushing down her annoyance, Lisbon gestured towards him.

"This is -"

"Patrick Jane," Jane interrupted, walking past her with an outstretched hand and a large smile on his face. Hotchner shook his hand without a word, but his eyes narrowed slightly under the prominence of his brow.

"Mr. Jane works as a consultant for the CBI," Lisbon explained. "He's in on the case-"

"Only if that's all right with you, of course," Jane added with an air of ultimate politeness that Lisbon knew so well. It wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference to him if the profilers said it wasn't all right; but looking at Agent Hotchner's stony face, she could tell this was not a man anyone would want to be cross with.

"We can use a extra pair of eyes," Agent Hotchner replied with a curt nod to Jane before turning to Lisbon again. "Where can we set up?"

"Right this way," Lisbon said, leading the way into the corridor. "We cleared a room for you; put up a board, the case files, and there's coffee." She stepped aside to let them in. "Anything else you need?"

"This is perfectly fine, thank you."

Lisbon watched, with Jane lingering just behind her, the profilers get settled in and get straight down to work. Dr. Reid; a tall, lanky young man wearing a brown sweater vest (_who, other than Jane himself, could support a sweater vest as naturally as if they were from the 19th century?_) was laying out a map on one side of the huge table. Agent Prentiss, a though-looking woman with raven hair, and Agent Rossi were digging into the file boxes. Agent Morgan, having just added his sunglasses to the numerous devices hung on his belt, was already looking over the file of the last murder.

"I guess they won't want any lunch," Lisbon whispered to Jane.

"Nice to see I've finally had some influence on you," Jane replied, no doubt with an amused smirk, but Lisbon wasn't looking at him. Agent Hotchner watched his team for a moment before turning to her.

"Is it possible to have officers drive us to the crime scenes?"

"I can drive you to the Millers' house, and I can have someone from my team take others to the Cyrus' place."

"Good." He turned to his team. "Morgan and Rossi, take the Cyrus's residence; I'll go to the Millers' with Detective Lisbon." He turned to the remaining two agents-

"Already on it," Agent Prentiss beat him to it, taking out victims' information files and spreading photographs onto the table.

"Same here," Dr. Reid spoke from the white board where he was putting up the map, a red marker in one hand and concentration on his face.

"Straight down to business, aren't you," Jane quipped from behind Lisbon, "F.B.I., indeed.". It was exactly what Lisbon had been thinking, but it seemed to her as though Agent Hotchner's frown had just become a bit deeper. His piercing eyes darted to Jane.

"Mr. Jane, have you been in on the case since the first victim was discovered two weeks ago?"

"I have."

"Good. I'd appreciate it if you worked with Agents Reid and Prentiss. Let them in on your observations."

"Ah. Yes, sure," Jane replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "Why not?" He rose on his toes and flashed a grin at Prentiss. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes yet again, Lisbon chose to ignore the rather funny way Agent Prentiss's eyebrows vanished beneath her dark bangs in response to Jane's antics.

"Jane, could you introduce Agents Prentiss and Reid with the team?" Without waiting for a response, she turned to Agent Hotchner. "Let's go." She turned, and throwing one last warning glance at Jane, set off on her way. Down the corridor, she stuck her head into her team's headquarters.

"Rigsby."

"Yes, boss?"

She nodded towards the agents behind her. "Take Agents Morgan and Rossi to the first crime scene."

"Sure."

And with a nod to the two departing agents, she fell into step with Agent Hotchner, praying, with a sigh, that Jane not drive the two profilers up the wall until they got back.


	2. II Confrontation

_A/N: Because I did say that I can't write case-fics, and because there's no way Derek Morgan and Patrick Jane can get on well._

_Part Two of The Mentalist /Criminal Minds cross-over, Character Studies. Derek already doesn't like Jane much, but when he actually hears the way Jane talks to a victim's wife, he has one or two choice words for him._

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**II. Confrontation**

The Californian sun shines high and bright over the front lawn of a nice suburban house. The pleasant shadow of a tall aspen tree seems to be swaying on the green grass, when in reality, it the grass that dances lazily to the playful summer breeze. Birds sing jovially over the small, cozy neighborhood; dogs bark, and there's even a red-and-blue kite gliding high in the sky. If it weren't for the yellow police tape surrounding the house's entrance, or the small army of law enforcement officials walking in an out of the building, or the police cars and the ambulance pulled up haphazardly in the driveway… it _could_ be called a perfect day.

Outside, a little aside the stone-paved path to the front door, stands a plump, middle-aged woman, arms crossed over her chest, staring disbelievingly at the man across her. She seems affronted, at a loss for words. In the bright daylight, her face is pale, her eyes red-dimmed, and eyes glossy.

The man standing across her, strangely, is relaxed; hands in his pockets, his body slightly curved backwards like he's really enjoying what he's doing, and he's wearing an alluring smile which looks almost uncommonly natural on his face.

"Ah, so you didn't know that the late Mr. Holloway had been driving money from your joint account to pay his accomplice to keep quiet. Or that he's been going behind your back for years – with his impressive ability to keep secrets, I'd say at least a decade. But what really confuses me is why you've never confronted your daughter about her erratic behavior around her father. Have you ever asked her about the issue, at least?"

Mrs. Holloway simply keeps staring.

/

"Jane. Hey, Jane!"

Patrick Jane has barely even turned his head when Agent Derek Morgan walks up to him and seizes his arm in a steely grip. With a quick "Excuse us, ma'am," to the offended widower who's still gaping at Jane with a scandalized face, Morgan pulls Jane away and all but drags him until they take a turn around the rundown structure adjacent to the house and are safely out of sight.

"What the hell was that?"

Jane blinks, frowning slightly as he rubs his arm where the profiler's offensive clench has surely bruised.

"Hey, you're being a bit _rough_, my friend –"

"What the hell were you doing?" Morgan demands, each word leaden with anger. Jane blinks, gesturing towards the direction from which they've just come.

"What; you mean Mrs. Holloway?" He shrugs, lips curling upwards so smoothly that it seems out of his own accord. "I was probing," he explains , "You know how victims' families can be."

"No, no," Morgan counters, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hip. "What you did back there is _wrong_, man; it's invasive. The woman just lost her husband of twenty years; she deserves some respect."

Creepily, Jane's smile transforms into a knowing smirk. "You know, what we do is quite similar, Agent Morgan," he suggests with a friendly manner. "So I'm pretty sure you'll get what I mean. You show them respect, and they _respectfully_ close the door on you. So you need to find a way in, and that necessitates being invasive." He grins, like he's just let Morgan in on a secret, and gives his shoulder a friendly poke with his fist, probably unaware how comical his gesture looks. "Watch and learn," he jokes.

It's a wrong move.

He turns on his heel to go back, but he stops cold when Morgan slams his palm on the rusty, zinc wall of the shanty, his arm blocking Jane's way like an iron bar.

"Don't," Morgan hisses, face mere inches away from Jane's, "you dare teach me my job."

Jane swallows.

He's practically trapped between the towering form of the agent and the warm wall pressed against his back. He finds it utterly disconcerting to be stared down by a big, muscular FBI agent who can snap him into two.

"Listen to me, you arrogant bastard," Morgan growls, his smooth face contorted with anger. "I don't care how the CBI people stand or tolerate you. Odds are, they need you. But make no mistake." His eyes narrow. "You're only here out of my man's courtesy." He snorts humorlessly. "Don't go and flatter yourself by thinking we need you, 'cause we don't."

He pauses as he glares at Jane's unmoving face, his arm relaxing slightly. "Because _any _one of my team can take you on, man. Any day, any time."

Slowly, cautiously, he brings his arm down, releasing Jane from his uncomfortable position, but Morgan's eyes never leave Jane's, and Jane doesn't move at all.

"I'm warning you," Morgan says, deadly serious. "If you want to stick around; stick around. But if you pull something like that again, I'll kick your ass out of here faster than you can say 'Lisbon'. Am I clear?"

Jane simply stares.

"Am. I. Clear?" Morgan repeats, words forcing themselves out through his clenched teeth. Jane gives him a sharp nod, smoothing the front of his suit in a swift move.

"Perfectly," he says, his lips once again trying to curl up, but this time, they fail horribly.

Morgan turns around, and halts, coming face to face with Agent Lisbon.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Agent Lisbon's eyes move from Morgan to Jane, and to Morgan again. Slowly, Morgan throws the CBI consultant a quick glance over his shoulder, and inclines his head at Lisbon.

"None," he replies curtly, steps aside, and putting on his sunglasses, walks away.

Lisbon watches after him with a frown before turning to Jane again, who's still standing with his back pressed against the shanty wall.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concerned, but not at all surprised. Slowly breathing out, Jane nods.

"Yeah."

"Should I even ask what that was about?"

Jane raises his eyebrows meaningfully as they begin walking back through the house, and Lisbon rolls her eyes, lips twitching.

"I think we can start a contest, Lisbon," Jane suggests a second later. "Whoever's said 'I told you so' more at the end of the month wins dinner for two."

With a laugh, Lisbon pushes him on the shoulder.

"You're on."

And Jane smiles, and it's his easy, bright smile again.


End file.
